A time was coming when the false atmosphere in
which he moved would be blown away by a stronger mind and a greater
genius than his own; but already he found himself dimly conscious
that some fundamental error had launched him along the wrong
road--that he was groping in a blind alley and had missed the only
path leading toward reality.
From Paignton on the following morning he proceeded to Plymouth and
directed a strenuous and close inquiry. But he knew well enough that
he was probably too late and judged with certainty that if Robert
Redmayne still lived, he would no longer be in England. Next he
returned to Princetown, that he might go over the ground again, even
while appreciating the futility of so doing. But the routine had
to be observed. The impressions of naked feet on the sand were
carefully protected. They proved too indefinite to be distinguished,
but he satisfied himself that they represented the footprints of two
men, if not three. He remembered that Robert Redmayne had spoken of
bathing in the pools and he strove to prove three separate pairs of
feet, but could not.
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